


push and pull

by myconstant



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myconstant/pseuds/myconstant
Summary: Rin knows it even before his hand hits the wall.





	push and pull

**Author's Note:**

> this probably takes place sometime during season 1, but beyond that who knows? not me

Rin knows it even before his hand hits the wall.

Knows it because he feels it in the push and pull of the water, in the light reflecting down from the ceiling above. The stars are aligning for this one, he’s sure of it, just as he knows that Haruka is barely a second behind him in the next lane.

It goes against everything he’s ever believed about hard work, but maybe there’s some truth to all that shit Haruka talks about the freedom of water, about finding your own submission. At the turn, he thinks he might even be beginning to understand.

He's almost sad when he makes that last long stretch to reach for the finish. Rin knows he gets too keyed up over relays and competition, over personal bests and winning, but _this_. This feels like heaven, this feels like floating.

He doesn’t even need to look at his team to confirm what he’s known from the starting block. The noise from the applause and chanting echoes in arcs, louder and louder, and he rises on it. Slaps at the water so it swells like waves in the early morning at Bondi Beach.

He makes to get out of the pool to celebrate and just so happens to catch sight of Makoto leaning over the next lane, reaching out and smiling, and the look on Haruka’s face, calm and quiet and maybe even happy despite losing, and just like that, something inside Rin sinks like a rock.

  


\- which is so stupid because this is all only for practice, only for fun.

Or at least that’s what Mikoshiba had said when he proposed a medley relay to close out another pointless joint practice with Iwatobi. But Samezuka’s captain is possibly even more competitive than Rin, and Gou is over by the door, taking what seem to be highly detailed notes about god only knows what, and it’s all too obvious that this is a not so clever ruse for Mikoshiba to look good in front of Rin’s sister.

“Matsouka,” Mikoshiba adds, and really, Rin should have known. “You’re swimming free.”

So it’s his captain who comes up with the idea, Rin who fumes on the pool deck afterwards, and the Iwatobi Dream Team Freak Show who high-five each other like they don’t care that their exchanges slow them down to the speed of starfish, like they don’t care that they lost. Big group hugs and everything, Makoto’s hand raking through Haruka’s hair.

Rin is familiar enough with envy to know it when he feels it. He knows that he’s been envious of Haruka for as long as he’s known him, that he’s always wanted to swim with Haruka’s assurance and calm. He knows that during four years of getting his ass kicked in Australia, there was never a race where he didn’t also imagine Haruka up there on the start block next to him, Makoto bellowing for Haru from up in the crowd.

But Rin’s dreams are weighty and persistent like the pressure at the bottom of the diving tank. Where Haru cuts into the water with grace, Rin disrupts it by force.

It's way past time for their weak excuse for a swim practice to be over; only a few people still loiter around the edge of the pool. Makoto rummages through his bag near the windows, idly talking at Haruka, who stares at the water.

It's a sight Rin's seen before, so familiar that it's almost unbelievable. He had left Japan and come back as someone else, while his old friends are exactly as he left them. Sort of.

Makoto stands up, slings a towel over his shoulder, and brings it dry the droplets that still linger in his hair. He looks the same as four years ago, except for how he's grown that much taller and broader. It’s almost enough to make Rin wish that he had picked up the phone during his annual New Years visits home, just to have seen the in-between.

Makoto looks up and meets Rin's eyes and it takes a moment for Rin to realize that he's been caught staring, that his face is turning red.

And then Nagisa throws an arm around his shoulder and forcibly drags Rin down to his own height, oblivious to whatever it is that's happening.

“ - so fast, Rin-chan!” Nagisa still doesn’t come up for air between sentences, just barrels on from one to the next. “It’s so amazing! You swim so fast that even if I didn’t totally blow my exchange with Mako-chan, you still might have been fast enough to beat Haru-chan!”

It really is unbelievable.

Rin doesn’t swim for compliments or for anyone else’s opinion, but this backhanded sort of shit has always pissed him off. “What do you mean _might have been -_ “

“It was so nice to swim with you again, Rin,” Makoto quickly cuts, bright and happy and suddenly there as Ryuugazaki slings Nagisa over his shoulder and Haruka disappears with a splash. It’s a blatant attempt by Makoto to distract Rin away from Nagisa complaining loudly as he’s hauled off to the relative safety of the locker room, or Haruka, very uninterested in this whole situation and drifting somewhere near the bottom of the pool. But for whatever reason, Rin knows and still feels his hands relax out of fists.

“It was nice,” Makoto repeats slowly, looking thoughtful. His face lights up when he finds the words he’s looking for. “It _is_ nice.”

Rin scowls and tries hard not to agree. “Whatever."

Rin doesn't know why Makoto laughs at this and smiles again, why it's different this time, like there's something cute or charming about Rin sulking on the pool deck after practice, goggles pushed up into his hair so it's all a tangled mess. Doesn't know why Makoto gently knocks their shoulders together, like there's a joke somewhere to share or why he's even still thinking about any of this the next day, or the next, or the next.

  



End file.
